


Simon Says

by penguistifical



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (Elias's voice and not Simon's despite the title), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Voice Kink, when peter and elias fight simon gets called in to mediate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:15:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25121497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguistifical/pseuds/penguistifical
Summary: “Peter asked me to drop by and have a word with you, and, so, here I am.” Simon chuckles at Elias’s disbelieving stare. “Well, he asked in his own way.  He’s not a complicated man, you know. He either comes from your arms looking like a stroked cat that’s been given a dish of cream or looking like he’s been in that toy boat of his out in an unexpected storm. He was far angrier than normal, so I daresay you weren’t cream today.”Elias and Peter need a little help getting back together, who better to ask advice from than somebody who's been around for centuries? That is, besides the many, many reasons someone might not want to ask Simon for anything.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 11
Kudos: 91





	Simon Says

**Author's Note:**

> some canon level terribleness from elias and peter, especially with regards to peter and the Lonely
> 
> also DAMN I can't believe Simon had the nerve to show up in canon while I was drafting this and possibly invalidate my whole characterization? but I actually think it's still okay
> 
> anyway, here we go:

Like most victims of the Falling Titan, Elias is surprised to find himself suddenly falling through an endless sky. He’d been sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, staring at a ruined tape and a ruined situation. He should have been trying to figure out how to salvage his options, but he’d been unable to tear his gaze away from the tape, its ribbon unspooled across statements like torn entrails. 

So, entirely lost in his thoughts, he’d been quite startled by the firm hand suddenly on his shoulder tossing him unceremoniously into the realm of the Vast.  
  
Elias can’t help the instinctive shriek that tears its way out of his throat, but he also can’t hear his cry over the roaring of the wind in his ears as he plummets and plummets. He grabs at his glasses to keep them from being torn off his face, and chances a look downwards. It’s a dizzying mistake - he’s falling in an abyssal sky towards a nothingness that stretches onwards forever. There isn’t even a horizon, a lure that would tempt those wandering lost in the nothingness to journey forever. 

He manages to stop scrambling for purchase and schools his features into something less resembling abject terror, though he's nowhere near the easy composure of the man falling next to him.

“Afternoon, Simon,” Elias attempts to say as politely as possible, though the wind promptly steals the words from his mouth. He settles for glaring instead. Simon merely grins back.

“Elias, Elias,” Simon clicks his tongue and shakes his head in mock sorrow. “It’s such a sad state of affairs when _I’m_ the one being asked to mediate a lover’s quarrel.”

Simon chooses to ignore Elias’s frustrated gesture of denial and instead reaches for a handful of the cloud he’s suddenly reclining on. He removes a portion of soft grey puff and fluffs it out like a plush pillow.

“There’s no need to be coy about these things, Elias,” Simon says pleasantly, resting his chin on the cloudy pillow he’s made. “Peter asked me to drop by and have a word with you, and, so, here I am.” He chuckles at Elias’s disbelieving stare. “Well, he asked in his own way, you know. He came by to call in a favor and say he might need me for something in the future. He’s not a complicated man, you know. He either comes from your arms looking like a stroked cat that’s been given a dish of cream, or looking like he’s been in that toy boat of his out in an unexpected storm. He was far angrier than normal, so I daresay you weren’t cream today.”

Elias considers the merits of peering into Simon’s mind, but perusing the thoughts of an avatar of the Vast is a terrifying way to expand one’s horizons. He’ll, as uncomfortable as it makes him, probably actually have to talk to Simon in order to be quickly released from his freefall.

“What did he say about me?” Elias mouths. Simon cocks his head and puts a hand to his ear, feigning puzzlement. 

“I can’t hear you, Elias. Perhaps it’s my years catching up to me, mm?” Elias stamps a frustrated foot on air, but Simon chuckles and pointedly looks away, curtailing any attempts to read lips.

The avatar of the Vast stretches on his pillowy couch, basking in the expansive emptiness in the realm of his god.

“I don’t spend nearly enough time here,” Simon sighs. “Anyway, the thing is, Elias, that neither of you two have any perspective. When Peter gets angry, he leaves. Working things out between you two would mean...a partnership. An antithesis to what he is. Meanwhile, _you’re_ content to merely watch without acting. And, might I add, you’re also a little too eager to keep score when it comes to things like this. You trade insult for insult. An eye for an eye, as it were.”

Simon glances sidelong at Elias to see if his cleverness is appreciated. Elias shows him an unimpressed scowl, and Simon smiles as if he’s been offered the highest of compliments. “So, the two of you are, by nature, not practiced at resolving the problems you create with each other. And, given how little they matter in the grand scheme of things, it seems undeserving to call them 'problems' at all."

Simon waves a hand at Elias’s furious gesturing, sending small trails of cloud into the air that vanish in a blink above them as they continue to hurtle in the direction that's probably downwards. “Oh, I know it matters to _you_ , and very much so. But, if you were to just wait another, oh, I don’t know, sixty or so years? I’ve becomes rather a bad judge of estimating these things. The point is, _Jonah,_ the problem will resolve itself if you choose to wait. You’ll be someone else, and,” Simon mimes doffing a hat and holding it to his chest, “Peter will be dead.”

They fall in silence for a few minutes, Simon contemplating the nothingness peacefully while Elias grits his teeth and waits.

“So, whatever it is you’ve done,” Simon eventually continues, “Find a way to make amends or just let it be for a century. You’ve got to decide what matters.”

The air howling through Elias’s ears suddenly dims to a distant whine. It’s difficult to be dignified when all his instincts demand that he curl into a ball and brace for impact, especially compared to his completely unaffected conversational partner. Simon’s lounging lazily on his cloud like a calmly sunning lizard.

“Well,” Elias says, testing his ability to speak. “I don’t suppose we could have the rest of this conversation somewhere more...stable?”

“Goodness, no,” Simons assures him. “Now, tell me your side of things?”

“I asked for Peter to meet me in my office,” Elias slowly begins, wondering the safest way to present the least amount of information.

“Ah, your anniversary? You two have those monthly at this point, I believe.”

“No.” answers Elias, voice coated in ice.

“My apologies,” Simon says, meaning it not at all. “Go on.”

“I needed, ah, need a favor from him.” Elias says. “He’s going to help me with something. My Archivist needs to become acquainted with what it means to be Lonely.”

“Something that Peter is uniquely qualified to teach,” Simon dryly puts in. 

“Yes, that’s the idea. I had some statements out on my desk, a few tapes, and the relevant folders that went along with them. It's the information associated with those statements, the materials my Institute has already gathered that add depth and context to the stories. Peter came into my office, like I’d asked, saw the contents one of the open folders, and…” He’d been hotly furious in a way Elias hadn’t seen before. Elias had been familiar with Peter’s simmering resent and his habit of distancing himself when annoyed. He'd never seen the man angry enough to stay and express himself. “He was upset.”  
  
“What was in the folder?” Simon asks, cheerfully relentless.

“One of the statements concerned the Lukas family. We’ve always kept our professional contact with them to a minimum, as promised…” Elias trails off, glowering at Simon’s leer for the phrase ‘professional contact.’ “You know what I mean. They don’t like when Institute employees want to discuss their patron. The folder had a photo of a Lukas. One of Peter’s relatives.”

Simon reaches out a hand to pat Elias condescendingly on the shoulder, but Elias somehow drops faster than Simon can make contact. “Elias, are you sure it’s only your Archivist that needs familiarity with the Lonely? Of course such a thing would drive Peter into a rage. He takes pride in being an apple on a family tree he barely knows. He draws a potent strength from it, in fact, given the one he worships. It’s always been a bit bizarre to me that the Lonely crowd should be powerful in their numbers, but somehow they are, and they become stronger through the contradiction. Peter would not have wanted to know anything about anyone he’s related to.”

Elias furiously combs his hair out of his eyes with his free hand, the other still clutching his glasses. “I didn’t call him in to show him the photo. I don’t see why he should be so tetchy because he now knows what his distant cousin looks like.”

“You don’t see why because _you_ can’t fathom not wanting to learn something. You called Peter in to meet you, and had the photo out on the desk -think about how the situation appears to him. Seems purposefully set up, no? And now, because he’s seen this, you’ve shown him someone who is very like him. Not only someone who has done what he’s done in the service to the One Alone, but a blood relative. With this knowledge, Peter is one of a pair. He’s less alone than he was. Imagine if the next time he tries to sacrifice one of his sailors, he thinks about this cousin doing the same things -what a blow to his dedicated solitude.”

“He knew that the cousin existed already!”

“Yes, but did he know their name? Their face? And, I imagine it also hurts that _you_ called him in to see such a thing. He trotted up obediently at your call and strolled trustingly into a trap.”

Elias purses his lips and doesn’t answer.

“Ah, the wrong trap, then?” Simon chuckles. “Be careful, Elias, if you try spin webs without the Spider’s favor, you’ll only end up stuck yourself on the strands you’ve placed.”  
  
Elias shakes his head. “Some of us aren’t content to merely let the years pass by.”

“Yes, and you end up in such trouble for your little machinations. Decide what’s important, and what’s merely,” Simon pats his cloud fondly, “something just passing by in the sky. I’ll send you back now, I think.”

“Good. I have things to do.”

“Oh, no appreciation? Try this: ‘Thank you for your help, Simon.’”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Don’t be like that.” Simon says agreeably, but Elias has the sense that something so much bigger than a small old man is grinning out at him behind the teeth of Simon’s genial smile.  
  
Elias wouldn’t say that Simon’s the more powerful avatar between the two of them, but Simon's relationship with the Vast is very different than his own with the Eye. Simon’s service to his entity isn’t one in exchange for powers, as is so commonly the case, but nor is his dedication the slavish worship typical of the Desolation. Simon fell deeply in love with his entity the first time he brushstroked a path of azure across a canvas. His service to the Vast is an artist’s dedication to a muse. He’s asked for nothing, but his attentions have been rewarded, almost as if his lifespan has been extended so that his devotion can continue.  
  
Elias isn’t easily cowed, but he understands when respect is due.  
  
“Thank you, Simon,” he says, with a slight nod.

“Well, now.” Simon beams. “How nice to see that you can be mannerly. By the way, I did say some things to Peter about the need for occasionally speaking with others, or at least even creating the opportunities for speaking with others. But, I don’t know that he’ll listen - that's your expertise, not mine. Do try to work things out with your Lonely partner, hm? I don’t really want either of you to come to me again with something as petty as this. Ta.”

And with that, Elias finds himself suddenly slammed into his chain in his office.  
  
He braces his hands on his desk, panting, to ground himself.

He hadn’t told Simon that Peter, in his anger, had reached out and snapped a tape. Elias hadn’t actually known the tapes could be broken like that. Paper can be burned and plastic can be cracked, but the tapes have often been sturdier than they’d appear. He suspects it has something to do with a Lonely avatar purposely choosing to withdraw information from the Eye. 

Elias moves all the paperwork into a drawer and slowly starts to unspool the ribbon from the tape to see if it can be salvaged, moved to another cassette. He turns Simon’s words over in his mind as he gathers the ribbon from the cracked spool, winding it around his hands. Consider what’s important....what’s important is that Jon be marked by the Lonely. If Peter won’t do it, Elias can start by going to artefact storage. The Institute has a few items that might work to leave a mark. If that fails, he can try to invoke the entity’s presence in a contrived situation of isolation. If that too fails, he can follow-up on one of statements concerning the Lonely. The Institute has plenty of those, though possibly one less now, given the remains of the tape he has tangled around his fingers. 

Even without Peter, he has many options.

Elias stares at the remains of the tape woven through his hands and wonders why Peter’s departure feels like so much more than a minor inconvenience. It takes him a moment to realize that the wisps of fog in the room aren’t emanating from the ribbon in his hands. He looks up to see Peter gazing dispassionately at the mess they’ve made.

He really hadn’t thought that Peter would be coming back to his office so soon. That the Lonely avatar has even shown up of his own accord is a sign of forgiveness, and Elias instinctively tries to reach out to him. He’s pulled short by the tape he’s tangled up in, unable to touch his sometimes husband for the story that’s tethering him to the desk.

Peter’s mouth twitches up a little, but he rapidly schools his expression back to disinterest, clearly waiting.

“I’m not omniscient,’ Elias begins, untangling himself from the pile of unspooled ribbon. “I’m trying to put something bigger than myself into motion, and I…that was stupid of me, to not realize you’d be upset by the photo.”

“Yes,” agrees Peter.

“I’ve moved all items pertaining to the statement out of sight.” Elias adds, quickly. “Except the tape, I didn’t think it would especially bother you.”  
Peter doesn’t answer, but reaches across the desk and gently pulls a stubborn loop of ribbon over Elias’s wrist, freeing him. His hand lingers for a moment longer than necessary on top of Elias’s.

The avatar of the Beholding has a thousand things to do, but, at the moment, the idea of borrowing Simon’s style of simply letting time flow by feels very attractive. And, besides, Elias has already set up as many figurative dominos to fall as can be currently placed.

He’d ask if Peter would like to stay for a while and have a drink, but he knows Peter doesn’t like to be asked to stay.

So, instead he crosses to his couch in the back of the office, placed strategically next to a bookshelf so that he can pull tomes without having to get up. It’s slightly terrifying to realize how many of Peter’s habits he’s become familiar with. He’d always considered that type of knowledge to be something used against an opponent, and not, as it currently feels, like a personal weakness. 

Elias settles himself on the leather and pats his lap. “Come here.” There’s a moment where he thinks the other man is going to leave in a swirl of fog, but then Peter slowly walks to him and allows himself to be coaxed onto the couch, until he’s lying with his head resting in Elias’s lap. 

“Comfortable?” Elias asks him, slowly stroking a hand over his hair.

“Not especially. My current headrest’s a bit bony.”

“We can’t all recline on clouds,” Elias mutters. As he considers this, he realizes something he can do to make things up to Peter. “I’ll be needing to replace that tape you snapped. I was wondering if you’d mind hearing a statement about yourself.”

He lightly skims the surface of Peter’s thoughts, the briefest testing of the waters, to see what the other avatar is feeling. Peter's somewhat suspicious, which is honestly a healthy way to feel in the Institute, and Elias can’t argue that he hasn’t earned that. But, Peter’s also willing to see what Elias has in store.

Elias leans down to brush his lips against Peter’s forehead. “You’ll quite like this, I promise.”

“Will you be recording?” Peter asks, not fully trusting.

“No, no, consider this a test run to make sure the statement’s as it should be.” Elias answers, and feels Peter’s suspicion flow out like the tides.

 _Statement begins,_ Elias thinks to himself, and starts to describe that which is uniquely Peter Lukas and his relationship and dedication to the Lonely. He wants to undo the damage he has done by restoring Peter’s sense of separateness. Whatever blood ties he may share with the cousin, his choices should set him apart and allow him to feel alone in his service.

Elias details how it feels to stand at the rail of the Tundra and watch the shore and its people slowly vanish as the boat departs, staffed by a crew that will return with at least one less. Peter still sometimes likes to pretend as the land fades from view that it’s actually dissipating from reality, sending an entire port town of people into the Lonely. Elias cards his hands through Peter’s hair as he also gently sifts through his mind, giving voice to Peter’s fantasies that some day the boat will attempt to sail back into harbor only to find that the world has become delightfully empty.  
  
Peter lets out a small gasp, as if unconsciously breathing Elias’s words into himself.

“You seem to be liking this,” Elias murmurs, breaking from his statement.  
  
Peter sighs in Elias’s lap, and tilts his head back obligingly so that Elias can run his pianist’s fingers up and down his throat.  
  
It seems that the Lonely appreciates the words as well, from the pleased look starting to spread across Peter’s face. Elias has seen that particular expression on Peter's face after he's sent someone to a fogged demise. Elias supposes having one’s power detailed by the Eye is rather affirming, though normally the satisfaction of having fed one’s god flows only in one direction.

But Peter merely lets out a noncommittal hum and turns his head to the side, resting on Elias’s leg.

“Oh, is that all?” Elias teases. “For as generous with the details as I’m being, I might prefer a bit more honesty in response.” 

“I can’t help if your story is putting me to sleep,” Peter says carelessly, but a quick caress of his thoughts shows that Peter recognizes what he's offering, and is game to play.  
  
“If I see that you don’t feel like answering, I’ll retract the question, of course.” Elias assures, and Peter resettles against his leg like a cat choosing the most comfortable spot to nap. “Now, I don’t need a full report from you, not when I'm in the middle of a statement of my own, so don’t feel, ah, compelled to reply with a soliloquy. But, do tell me: you seem to be liking this. _Are you?”_

It’s a simple question, but Elias knows Peter feels the compulsion curl into him like a strip of warm silk, weaving and wrapping around his mind and emerging embroidered with the truth for Elias to read.

“Yes,” breathes Peter. “Very.”

“Wonderful,” Elias says, and leans down so that he can whisper directly into Peter’s ear. “ _Was it so hard to answer honestly?”_

Peter jerks slightly, the words tingling down his spine, but responds with a prompt, “No, I want you to go on.” 

“Of course I will,” Elias promises. He blows out lightly into Peter’s ear and chuckles when the man arches up. “Oh, was that nice? Should I do it again?” he asks, pitching his voice to the sickly sweet tones he knows Peter loves to say that he hates.

Peter nods against his leg and further tilts his head, offering himself up to Elias’s whims. Elias, endeared, chucks him gently under the chin.

“Yes to which?” Elias presses. “It felt good, or I should do it again?”

“Both,” Peter says, voice slightly muffled with how his face is nearly pressed into Elias’s stomach.

“Answering without compulsion?” coos Elias, voice all envenomed honey. “There’s a lamb.” He licks the shell of Peter’s ear and obligingly breathes out hotly again, grinning when Peter squirms. “Careful, Peter, you’ll send us both off the couch.”

“Less about the couch, more about the Tundra,” Peter mutters.

Elias briefly considers making him say ‘please.’ But, as this is supposed to be something of a treat, he merely nips the shell of Peter’s ear and continues. 

He tells Peter of the pseudo-lottery of choosing a crew member to sacrifice to the Lonely. Each sailor on board signs a wager of a contract: guaranteed riches in potential exchange for their life. Peter has always singularly delighted in a gamble. More often than not, the captain has actually already decided who will be offered, but saying nothing fans the terror of the crew and produces a fine appetizer for the One Alone. Those aboard who have an inkling of what they might face infect the rest of the crew with their unspoken dread, and their ever present fear sinks into the boat like bloodstains. It’s as much a signature of the Tundra as the fog the ship almost seems to float on instead of the ocean.

Somewhat immersed in his own descriptions, it takes Elias a moment to notice that Peter is biting down so hard on his lower lip that he’s near to drawing blood. That’s something Elias would rather have the pleasure of doing himself, and so he lightly tugs Peter’s lip out of his teeth and slowly slides two fingers into his mouth.

Peter bites down, not to hurt Elias, or even leave a mark, but to hold the other man’s hand in place as he explores Elias’s fingertips with his tongue.

Elias’s breath stutters briefly, but he carries on with the stories of the few ex-members of the Tundra who have made their way to the Institute in a vain attempt to process what they’ve seen. As the time of sacrifice approaches, the panic of the shipmates grows by the day. They draw further and further from each other, unable to explain why they’re doing so, only knowing that they can’t stand to be around each other. And then, finally, when the offering is ready to be made, and the crew - save one unlucky soul -has departed from the ship...

Elias leans over Peter, murmuring into his ear the best gift he has to give, which is that he and the Eye don’t know what happens then. Whatever ritual takes place behind a shroud of fog is a mystery to everyone except for a single person, and only Peter would be able to answer how he serves his god.

Elias withdraws his fingers from Peter’s mouth, and studies the expression on the Lonely avatar’s face. Seeing Peter look so entirely satisfied from Elias’s words has the Beholder feeling smug. Smug enough to unbend, just a bit.

Elias runs a hand slowly down Peter’s chest, and says, quietly, “I am sorry, you know.”

He feels from Peter’s mind an unspoken acknowledgement like the echo of a distant whistle, and what, in Peter Lukas, passes for affection.

However, what Peter actually mumbles is, “Are you _still_ going on? You do love the sound of your own voice.”

Elias kisses his forehead, content. “You’re the one stretched out and practically purring in my lap. I see it’s true that the inward eye is the bliss of solitude.”

His last thought before pushing his fingers back into Peter's mouth is reluctantly that he probably ought to send his sincere thanks to Simon Fairchild.

**Author's Note:**

> that's Wordsworth that Elias is mangling at the end, what with the inward eye reference
> 
> thank you very much to everybody who leaves kudos and comments, you are all great and I really do appreciate it a lot


End file.
